


Ain't a Bag of Salt

by raewise



Series: Kit Ashbourne [3]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Past Drug Addiction, Pillow Talk, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 11:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6905203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raewise/pseuds/raewise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Boone can be comforting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ain't a Bag of Salt

**Author's Note:**

> Extra warnings: minor descriptions of gory injuries, nudity, cussing  
> Title from "Too Tough to Die" by Martina Topley-Bird.

Kit knows she’s maggot-infested dirt wrapped up in a pretty velvet bag. No amount of rouge can cover up her filth, the stench that douses her every crevice. She’s a dirty thing, touched by life’s every impurity. Chems, prostitution, gambling… God, gambling is the stealthiest vice. Chems at least had been a visible struggle.

Maybe Vegas is a good metaphor for Kit Ashbourne. Beneath all the glitz and glamour the Omertas are building bombs in their basement, the Ultra Luxe is flaying human steaks, Mr. House and his protege are vying for control of the Strip. Blood runs down her streets, and there’s war brewing on her horizon.

“ _ The ants go marching one by one… _ ” 

“ _ Hurrah. Hurrah. _ ”

Kit looks up, surprised that Boone would sing along with her. He doesn’t have a particularly nice voice, but it’s solid. His eyes are focused on the ceiling. He’s warm, nestled into her side, arm a comforting weight across her stomach. 

“Hey, Boone. Tell me something nobody else knows.”

“Hmm?” He breathes in the smell of her hair, tangling their legs together. Kit likes the slight scratch his coarse pubic hair gives her thigh, the light weight of his flaccid penis on her hipbone. “Back when I was touring, Manny got shot straight through the thigh. Had to carry him back to base four miles.”

“ _ Manny _ knows about that,” Kit delicately pointed out.

“No, he got knocked out. Bleeding out the whole way. He was in a coma for two days, had three blood transfusions and it still didn’t seem like a sure thing. Never told someone how far we were. Everyone assumed a couple metres past the hill.”

“That’s good of you, Boone.”

Boone shrugs, pulling her on top of him so she’s stretched out across his chest. “He was my best friend once.” 

“Do you do  _ this _ with  _ all _ your best friends? Should I be jealous of him?”

Boone snorts a laugh but doesn’t say anything. 

“Can I tell you something?” she asks him, staring at his face. She's settled on top of him so her knees are on either side of his waist, her arched body a cage around him.

“Yeah.”

“I got shot twice in the head by Benny. You know that part. I act like I’m immortal, two bullets lodged in my brain and I’m still kicking--how could I not be immortal? But the only reason I’m still alive is ‘cause the first bullet went straight through my temple, out the back of my skull. A perfectly clean shot, healed up nicely. The second one, that didn’t make it through the bone. He shot me right between the eyes, where the skull’s thickest. Broke my nose, but the bullet ricocheted back out.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I’m not--I’m not going to be around forever. I’ve made it so long because of dumb luck. Same reason I keep scoring big at casinos, why people listen to what I have to say--even if it’s bullshit. I’ve been  _ lucky _ . And it feels like every day I’m using up more and more of that luck, and one day everyone’s gonna realize how worthless I really am.”

“Kit--”

“No! No, just listen. When that time comes, when I’m broken and poor again, hopped up on chems like the trash that I am? I need you to know I understand if you leave me. I’ve not been the greatest friend. I could never carry you four miles.” She blinks away the tears in her eyes. “The second bullet. Part of it  _ did  _ make it into my brain. And Doc Mitchell couldn’t get it out. Shrapnel is stuck in there, behind my eye. It hurts so bad, Boone. It’s killing me. I’m dying, Boone. My luck’s running out. I’m already going blind, slowly but surely. What use will I be with one good eye, anyway?”

Boone doesn’t say anything, looking up at her with the most emotion Kit has ever seen on his face. He is an open wound, she is the bandage.

“I’m so sorry.” She presses her face against his collar, feeling his racing pulse. Again she whispers, “I’m so, so fucking sorry, Boone.”

He’s shaking against her, and she hates herself so much. Hurting him after everything he’s been through. Raising him up just to knock him back down. Healing his grief and satiating his desire for revenge--and he’s just going to end up mourning her. 

His hands grip her shoulders, fingertips digging in hard enough to create bruises. She looks at him, at his squinty eyes and hard mouth. She loves him. So much. But all Kit’s ever been good for was hurting people. 

“It’ll be alright.”

She stiffens in his hold. A tear splashes on his throat. 

“How is this alright? How is anything going to be alright?”

He gives her a shaky smile. Any smile from Boone is a gift, and this one… “You have people now, Kit. People who love you. Cass, Veronica, Arcade, Raul,  _ Benny _ . The NCR needs you, the Kings need you, the Followers, the Boomers. You’re a hero to the people of the Mojave, and I don’t want you to forget that. You’re not without worth. You’re the queen of the Strip, Kit Ashbourne. Embrace it.

“When you’re dead, whenever that may be, people will remember you. Back in Reno, in Goodsprings--hell, at the Sierra Madre Christine is probably thinking about you every damn day. Waiting for your next visit.” Kit chokes at the mention of the woman, heart swelling with affection. “As for me? You know how I feel. I’ve been with you practically since the beginning, and I have your back til the end of the line. We’re partners, okay?”

Kit feels her hips quiver as her knees tire of holding up her weight. She collapses on top of her spotter, making him grunt. She wraps herself around him like spider silk around a struggling fly. 

“That’s the most you’ve ever said in one go, sweetheart,” she jokes, his hold on her loosening. He lays her next to him, so they’re both on their backs looking up at the ceiling.

His hand finds hers.

“You’re not alone is all I’m saying. You think you are, but you have people all around you ready to fight for you.”

Kit shudders out a breath, fingers twitching in need for a cigarette. “More people to hurt.”

“More people to love.” And the way he says it, so firmly, she believes him. Boone isn’t a man of many words, Kit knows. Peeking at him from the corner of her eye she sees his cheeks are blossoming red, brows drawn together. His thinking face. 

“Okay,” she says into the quiet room. She hears the suite’s elevator ding, hears Cass’s obnoxious laughter and Veronica’s giggling in response. Raul tells them to hush up from the kitchen, and Rex scratches at Kit’s bedroom door, whining. “Think it’s time to get dressed, sugar. Duty calls.”

Boone watches her with a fond little smile, and Kit feels something she hasn’t felt for a long time. Hope, and the solid weight of significance deep in her gut, unfurling in her stomach. She’ll be okay. They’ll be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> [Buy me a coffee!](http://ko-fi.com/I3I59IAV)


End file.
